


Watch and See

by SecondSilk



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Closeted Character, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Happy, Other, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transsexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-10
Updated: 2010-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilk/pseuds/SecondSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John asks, so Ronon acquiesces, but he hadn't been expecting this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch and See

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by Kanata

John asks; almost manages a complete sentence; says please, so Ronon acquiesces solemnly. Taking his clothes off for John is no hardship, even if he's not sure he can make a show of it like John seems to want.

They've been given twenty four hours mandatory leave after escaping the Denali through their labyrinthine mines. Ronon has rarely felt as unsexy as he does now, after forcing his way through narrow mine shafts and running through stinky marshes, but it's too good an opportunity.

John sits on the bed. Ronon stands on the other side of the room and reminds himself that he is proud of his body. The lights are brighter than John usually has them, which means that Ronon can see John's expression: bland expectation. Ronon isn't sure this will work the way John probably wants; he's never been turned on by showing off.

Still, he has to do something.

Ronon starts by pulling his wristbands off and dropping them on the floor. John grins at him, daring him on. Ronon takes his time with the ties on his shirt, calling John's bluff, but John's gaze focuses on the reveal of Ronon's chest. Ronon's own breath quickens and he has to take a moment to think of how to proceed.

He shimmies his shirt off and flings it aside, smiling a little because it still feels ridiculous. They usually have sex quickly: intense and hot and pressed as close together for as long as they have.

Ronon's used to people watching him: fear, apprehension, awe. But John is looking at him like he's something impossible and amazing. Ronon runs his fingers over his pecs and his touch, under John's hot gaze, sends shivers through his body.

Oh, he thinks. Because turning John on has always been arousing, but he hadn't expected this at all.

John usually has to use his teeth on Ronon's nipples to get a reaction - a side effect of the intervention - and Ronon isn't going to turn himself on with his fingers on his chest, noting all his tattoos, tracing the fine scars underneath his pecs. He's turning John on, though, and watching the way John's eyes track his fingers. When his fingers skim over his hips, his pelvis stutters forward automatically.

John gasps.

Ronon can see the head of John's cock pushing past the elastic of John's boxers. John doesn't always get hard; Ronon wasn't sure it would happen this time, but he's glad it has because he knows he's going to want to be fucked.

Slowly, Ronon undoes the buttons of his trousers. Beneath John's avid gaze, he's finding it difficult to not just jam his hands into his underwear and bring himself off. He wants to draw this feeling out, though, the sense of a precipice before a freefall, the whole world laid out for the taking, John, spread out on the bed, legs wide and breathing ragged.

Ronon pushes his trousers down. There is no way to get them past his feet and away elegantly. John manages a laugh at his expense, which relieves the last of Ronon's anxiety and does nothing to break the mood.

Then he's standing there, with nothing but his underwear between his body and John. John leans forward, hands on knees, to watch Ronon's hand disappear into his underwear. Ronon's eyes close and he hisses through his teeth; he's so sensitive. He's more turned on than he's ever been without at least thinking about touching another person.

He forces his eyes open again so he can take in the sight of John, flushed and relaxed, breathing hard. John looks more delighted than Ronon has ever seen him any time they've been together like this.

It's one of the worst things about Earth culture that Ronon's discovered, that people are told what they are, not asked who they are. He doesn't like using male pronouns for John, even though John still uses them for himself, even though Satedan transitional pronouns don't get translated and John is not allowed to tell.

Frustration starts to gather in Ronon arms. He forces it down. John is still smiling at him, and Ronon smirks back, cants his hips slightly to earn a grin.

"Come on, get on with it," John says, in voice that holds no urgency.

Ronon slides his underwear down and kicks them away. His runs his hands slowly up the inside of his thighs - he has to pay attention to not falling over now, to not simply throw himself at John so John can touch him properly, skin to skin. Ronon's fingers trace the crease of his thighs, his hips, through his pubic hair and past his lips.

Ronon clenches his teeth against saying anything, but he can't stop himself grunting as his runs his fingers along his clit, circles the head.

John has his hands clenched around his knees, like he maybe wants to be touching himself.

"You should be naked, too," Ronon says.

John pulls his boxers off and throws them somewhere without looking away from Ronon. The weight of John's gaze is the only thing really holding Ronon upright. He spreads his legs slightly, revels a moment in the heat of his arousal when John mirrors the action, then he slides through the slick heat and pushes his fingers inside himself.

John groans, or whines: something high and needy. Ronon thinks he could come from that alone. He draws his fingers right out and pushes in again, just to hear John make that sound again and that's it, just a little more pressure back and one thumb on his clit and his body crumples as he comes.

He can't tell whether it's him or John making the noise, but when he can hear again, John's saying his name over and over.

"Please can I be fucked now?" Ronon says.

John falls back on the bed, spreads out, pushes his hips up into the air. Ronon's over there as quick as he can move, crowds himself into John's space and takes every opportunity to slide their skin together.

He hesitates with his hands cupping John's shoulders and his knees nudging John's thigh and hip until John says, "Yeah, do it. Yes." Then Ronon moves deliberately the take John into his body. Then there's nothing but hot and wet between them. It doesn't take any time for Ronon to find the right rhythm to hear John's panting moans with every thrust. He kisses John, strokes his ribs and pulls the words from somewhere: "Come on, come for me, I want to feel it."

John comes with a full body shudder. Ronon can feel it everywhere their bodies are entwined: legs, sex, arms. And he can see, too, gets to watch the way John's face freezes in a moment of surprised concentration before softening into something contented and relaxed. The grin John offers Ronon says that was awesome.

Ronon carefully pulls away and settles beside John, who doesn't hesitate before curling into Ronon's side and resting his head on Ronon's shoulder. Ronon pulls the blanket up, makes sure they're both covered. They didn't start sharing sleep until long after the started having sex; Ronon wasn't sure they ever would. Now it seems ordinary, and that's a luxury Ronon does not take for granted.

John has to dim the lights so they can sleep, but it doesn't feel like hiding.


End file.
